Too Far Away
by LynstHolin
Summary: DRARRY Harry Potter suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder and flashbacks from when Voldemort nearly killed him; lost weekends with Draco Malfoy provide temporary relief.


Warnings: Suggestiveness, language. drug use

This was for a song-based fic contest on dA. My song was 'Shimmer' by Fuel.

...

Harry was on his hands and knees, shaking and panting. "Just get a grip on yourself," Ginny said exasperatedly. Her voice sounded very distant, even though she was in the same room. Harry wasn't in the kitchen any more, not really. He was back in the Forbidden Forest, facing Voldemort, knowing he was going to die.

It seemed like anything could bring on the flashbacks. The sound of leaves in the wind, a certain shade of green, the sight of the moon. Living through it once had been bad enough. Reliving it on a nearly daily basis was hell.

His vision cleared and Harry re-emerged into the present. He stood up on weak legs and headed for the cupboard that held the liquor. "You're not drinking again, are you?" Ginny asked sharply.

"I _need_ a drink."

"Bollocks. We've all got bad memories. Stop using whiskey as a crutch."

Harry said nothing as he filled a tumbler. He'd tried, he'd tried so hard to explain. Ginny just couldn't understand that a flashback was more than just a memory.

"I'm leaving. I can't stand drunks."

Harry didn't even turn to watch her go. He raised the glass to his lips, the trembling of his hand causing some whiskey to slosh over the rim of the glass, and took a swig of the burning amber fluid.

...

Harry awoke with a cracking headache. "Here." A hand lifted his head a little, and another held cold glass to his lips. Harry drank a bitter-tasting potion and felt better nearly immediately. Looking up, he saw Draco's face smiling down at him. The beauty of it hit Harry in the chest so hard, it hurt. The last time Harry'd seen his on-again-off-again lover, Draco's hair had been to the middle of his back. Draco liked to change his appearance, and now his hair was just a chick-like fuzz on his scalp.

"You decided to come back?" Harry asked. Draco was sitting on the side of the bed, and Harry pressed his face against the blond man's thighs, feeling their wiriness through the linen trousers.

Draco stroked Harry's head, ruffling his hair. "I could take your company for a while."

Harry relaxed, loosely wrapping his arms around the other man's waist. It seemed like Draco always showed up when Harry was feeling particularly weak, like a piece of metal that had been folded again and again until it was ready to break at the bend.

"I've got something for you, Harry." Fingers slipped into Harry's mouth, and he obediently swallowed the pill. Draco got up to pull his clothes off and he climbed into bed with Harry; his pupils were huge, almost obliterating his irises. A feeling of slow warmth spread through Harry's body, and Draco's bare flesh on his was pure bliss.

...

"I get confused," Harry said, "Are we friends or lovers or what?"

Draco sat up on the bed. Harry stared at the way the curve of his spine pressed against his white skin. "Lovers love. Love is for fools."

"Friends, then?"

"We could be."

"Will you stay with me this time, Draco?"

"We're here and now, even if we may never be here again. Isn't that enough?"

The cryptic answers again. Harry wished there was some sort of 'contents' label on Draco. In the past year, they'd had five drug-fueled trysts together, and Harry still found Draco to be an enigma. Harry embraced Draco from behind, pressing hard against him, trying to bridge that gap that was always between them. No matter how close they were, Draco was always too far away.

...

Champagne and strawberries and Draco in a kimono embroidered in butterflies. "I've got to go to work today," Harry said.

Draco made a face. "The real world? Ugh. Forget it. You don't need to work, anyway." He held up a glass pipe. "You've got to try this. It'll change your life."

"Crack? No thanks." Harry's face twisted in disgust.

"I don't smoke fucking crack. This is DMT." Draco let his kimono fall open, and Harry sucked in his breath at the sight of his tight body. "Sex on it is _amazing_."

"Better than with poppers?"

"So much better. As in major spiritual experience good."

The moment Harry inhaled, the pipe fell from his fingers. His head seemed to expand to the size of the universe, and neon-colored patterns spun and scintillated in his vision.

"Didn't I tell you?" God told him just before He started making love to Harry.

...

A soft keening woke Harry. Draco was curled up in a ball at the foot of the bed, hands clutching his head. "What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"How could you want me? How could anybody want me?"

"You're fine, Draco. This is just what happens when the drugs wear off. It's not real."

"What I did is real. All of it."

Harry crawled over to Draco and pulled him up, kissing his wet face. "The past is past."

"But how can we forget it when it keeps coming back?" Draco eyes were haunted, the grey nearly black. "The thing that happens to you, the flashbacks? I get them, too."

"So we can deal with this together."

"But you don't-you don't have anything to be ashamed of. I do." Draco took a shuddering breath. "Where is my pipe?"

...

The shadows under Draco's eyes were lavender against his cream skin. They hadn't slept for five days. Harry'd had a message from the Ministry saying that he'd been sacked, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to care. Ginny had stopped by, leaving after screaming at them and smashing things, and he didn't care about that either. Neither of them had experienced a flashback in a week, and that he did care about.

Draco and Harry sat on the bed with their legs entwined. Draco placed a pill on his tongue and transferred it to Harry's mouth with a deep kiss. Harry caught sight of himself in a mirror; he'd lost weight, and he hadn't had any spare flesh to lose in the first place. It occured to him that Draco was as much his killer as his savior, but that thought got lost when the pill dissolved on his tongue. Draco shimmered in his vision like a mirage.

...

Of course, the morning came when Harry woke up alone. He stared at the folded white paper on the bedside table, wondering if there was any point to reading it. No matter where his body was, Draco was too far away for anyone to hold. Harry knew to just let it go. If there was one thing Harry knew, it was that all beautiful, shimmering things faded away.


End file.
